


Amaryllis

by TardisInWonderland



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisInWonderland/pseuds/TardisInWonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The old asylum in the hospital basement hadn't been opened in years, but after the issues with the sinkhole, the town thought it was best to inspect the foundations of all the buildings. They were expecting to find water damage and moldy pipes... not a half-starved and delusional woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hello (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the aftermath of "That Still Small Voice" and "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" in Season 1, and is obviously completely AU.
> 
> This is also the result of excessively listening to one band for an entire week and drawing inspiration from one song... then another... and another...

  
_Hello_  
 _Let me introduce you to_  
 _The characters in the show_  
 _One says yes, one says no_  
 _Decide_  
 _Which voice in your head you can keep alive_

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rosanna French walked out of the hospital hesitantly, a small plastic bag with a few belongings inside in her hands. She didn’t know what to do. The only reason she even had anywhere to go was because Archie set her up with an apartment above the library.

Well, “apartment” was a little relative. It was more like a very large attic space that had been converted into living quarters for a previous occupant by adding heat and indoor plumbing. 

“Are you ok?” Archie asked from beside her. He’d agreed to walk her out of the hospital, take things slowly, try to help her adjust to her new life.

“Yeah, it’s just… it’s big.” Rosanna blurted. She felt like a tiny child in front of a mountain. The hospital basement was almost all she remembered, and the world (even the world as seen from a tiny town in Maine) was foreign to her.

“Do you want to go back inside?”

“No!” she said, a little too quickly. “Please. Don’t make me go back.” 

“Don’t worry,” Archie said, patting her hand gently. “I won’t make you if you don’t want to go.”

Rosanna sighed with relief. That was the last thing she wanted. It had been eight months since they found her in the basement of the Storybrooke Hospital, delusional and suffering from extreme amnesia…

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_In a while now  
I will feel better  
I will be better_


	2. Paper Airplanes

  
_Paper airplanes_  
 _Open window_  
 _Here today and_  
 _Gone tomorrow_

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They’d found her during a building inspection. After the incident with the sinkhole, everyone agreed that the entire town should be checked over for structural stability. It turned out the hospital was scandalously overdue for inspection, and that included checking out the basement.

Everyone thought the basement was empty.

The only evidence that anyone had ever been down there at all were the dents in the old psych ward doors, the rust and the few cells with the doors swinging wide open, the old pencils on the nurse’s desk. Even the door to get downstairs was locked, and everything was coated in a thick layer of dust.

When they found her, they found her by her cries, a sort of helpless whimper like a small animal or a lost child. No one had a clue how she was even alive- someone had clearly been feeding her, making sure she was alive but teetering on the cusp of death by starvation.

It was too late when anyone thought to look for a trail through the dust, evidence that someone had been there.

The name plate on the door was blank, but there was a file on the desk that read “Rosanna French.” It was assumed that was the girl in the cell.

She’d scrambled away from them at first, struck out and screamed, but she quickly learned that they weren’t trying to hurt her- except perhaps the one nurse, the one who had always wanted to sedate her. After a short time the sedations had made her feel like the sleeping princess, tricked into taking the apple and falling asleep against her will (a far-off memory from very early days). The only difference was that for Rosanna, there was no handsome prince to wake her.

They gave her so many tests in the first few days that they all blurred into each other- the nurses looked her over for cuts and scrapes (“no evidence of self-harm,” she heard someone mumble, along with words like “stable” and “sanity”), tested her for drugs, tested her for all sorts of things, and found almost nothing wrong with her except for malnourishment (she couldn’t remember the word then, but she later learned it meant skinny as a skeleton and close to dying of starvation).

Dr. Whale had stopped the sedations and made sure the nurse didn’t return to her room again as soon as he heard of them. Rosanna had gotten scared the first time she met him, scrunched up in a ball at the corner of her bed. She was too skinny, her skin sallow from lack of sunlight and her eyes wide with fear.

“Are you going to put me to sleep?” she asked.

“No, of course not.” Whale shook his head, confused. “Why would you think that?”

“That’s what the nurse does when I’m afraid.”

Rosanna didn’t generally do well with people. Archie said it was ok to be afraid after being isolated for so long, that it was naturally. She didn’t want to be afraid, though. She wanted to be brave. She wanted to meet people.

She just… couldn’t handle it for a while.

X

“Do you remember when you were put in the asylum, Rosanna?” Archie asked gently.

“No.”

“Do you remember why?”

“No.”

“What do you remember?”

“I’m outside, playing in the yard. I think my dad is with me… And then the asylum.”

They put her in a room just a little bigger than your average bedroom might have been, with a bed, a coffee table, two armchairs by the large windows, and a small card table with two plastic chairs for dining. Rosanna liked the windows best of all. She felt like she could face the world when she was in bright sunlight.

The psychiatrist came over to her room once a day for therapy sessions, trying to figure out how much she knew and why she might have been put down there in the first place. Sometimes, not very often, she saw things. _Dreamed_ things, if you would, sometimes at night like the normal sort of dreams, and sometimes during the day like the not-so-normal sort.

It had taken them a while to discover her dreams (the more she read and the more she overheard, the more she thought it was a more delicate word for _delusions_ ), and at first Archie thought that was all they were- dreams. However, when Rosanna started staring off into space during pauses in the conversation, sitting in her chair with eyes unfocused for as long as twenty minutes at a time… things changed. 

“Rosanna?”

“Hm?” She blinked several times, as if surprised, and turned back to Archie. “Sorry. What were we talking about?”

“Where were you just now?”

“I…” Rosanna paused for a moment. “I don’t remember. It fades so fast sometimes.”

The dreams of the normal sort were easier for her to remember than the ones during the day- she even talked about them sometimes, absentmindedly, like a memory from a long time ago. Some were clearer than others, and she remembered some longer than others. Archie gave her a little book, like a journal, to write them down in so she wouldn’t forget. She didn’t have to show it to him, he said, but it might help her to write things down.

She filled it up in a week.

There were short stories and notes, poems, places, and even a few drawings, and all in black ball point pen so that it wouldn’t smudge away. She showed Archie one of them, once, a large castle on a hill in the distance, a forest, a river. He commented that it was actually quite a good drawing, and brought her a set of colored pens to work with the next time he saw her, along with a new little book.

“Hello, Rosanna,” Archie smiled, taking his usual seat in one of the two armchairs in the room. The one in the sunlight was Rosanna’s, and the other was his. She liked the sun- insisted that the blinds on her window were kept open all day and night, and opened the window completely when it was warm enough to do so. According to Dr. Whale, she liked the sky so much that he brought her a book on constellations, and she stayed up late trying to locate them.

“Hello,” Rosanna was curled up in her armchair, legs tucked up and drawing in her little book.

“May I see?” Archie asked. She seemed to consider it a moment, and then nodded. The page had a poem scrawled in a pretty sort of script in the very middle, surrounded by strange flowers and vines in all sorts of colors.

_The train is coming with its shiny cars,_  
 _With comfy seats, and wheels of stars_  
 _Hush, my little ones, and have no fear_  
 _The man in the moon is the engineer_

“Where did you hear that?” Archie asked.

“The man in the traveling hat told it to me,” she said with a shrug, continuing to draw the flower border.

“Do you understand it?”

“No.” she sounded like it should have been obvious. “That’s what I told him- it’s just nonsense. He wouldn’t hear of it, though, said it was very important.”

“I see,” Archie said, even though he didn’t. He dropped off a new set of books for Rosanna from the library, and asked her a little about the old ones she’d read.

Books were her one request, besides to simply get out, and they all knew that she couldn’t handle going anywhere just yet. So, rather than physically travel, she walked the world in pages, reading about different countries and technologies, reading fictions and fantasies and anything she could get her hands on, enough that even the little pieces of the world that she didn’t remember fell into place enough that she could envision a fragmented version of what life must be like outside her hospital room.

At first, Archie had wondered if the reason for amnesia was a problem with her memory in general, but when she cited a direct quote with perfect accuracy from a book she’d read three weeks ago (and he checked), he dismissed the notion entirely. It was more likely that Rosanna was suffering from some form of retrograde amnesia.

Over time, they managed to pinpoint that she didn’t have any memories from after the time that she was five. Relearning the world was difficult, but in a way, her dreams helped her. Rosanna knew that half the hospital staff thought she was crazy, but Archie knew she was sane.

They would carry on normal conversations for hours some days, about weather or books or anything she wanted to know about the world, but on other days she was sure she seemed insane… even to herself.

X

She spent one sunny afternoon doing nothing but sitting by the window and making paper airplanes. Dr. Whale came in when she was in the middle of her second pack of paper.

“Where did you learn that?” he asked, as if it was completely normal to have three hundred paper airplanes of various shapes and sized sitting around your room.

“The wooden boy showed me yesterday,” she said, placing another finished plane beside her.

“I’m surprised you haven’t flown one out the window yet.” Dr. Whale said with a chuckle. Rosanna looked up from folding another page, confused.

“Why would I do that?”

“To see it fly?” Whale suggested.

“Birds fly,” Rosanna sighed, gazing longingly out at the clouds. “These are only paper. Of course, birds have to fall in order to fly, I suppose, but then… they have a way of picking themselves up again. We don’t.”

“We?” Whale raised an eyebrow, curious. Rosanna turned away from the window for a moment, her blue eyes almost disturbingly bright.

“Me. And the airplanes.”

The next day all of the airplanes were gone from her room.

They found them outside under her window, dropped. She never even tried to fly them.

X

Over time, Rosanna gained weight little by little, working her way towards being healthy again. Her cheeks were no longer hollowed, and you could no longer count her ribs. Her yellowed skin turned porcelain, tinted with a rosy glow, and her fearful eyes turned curious instead.

Archie deemed her well enough to go outside for a walk about six weeks after her rescue from the basement. She looked hesitant at first, but the prospect of getting out into the sunlight won her over. The hospital had a rooftop garden that was mostly a hobby for some of the doctors, but it made a fantastic place for Rosanna to get some fresh air.

She met the one of the gardeners without getting too nervous, making some kind of comment about magic cabbages under her breath. Pulling out her little book and pens, she perched on a small stone bench and started to draw.

Archie had never seen her draw before. She usually only started something new when she was alone, but this time she motioned for him to sit beside her as she scratched out lines in her little book, using the rows of vegetables for reference.

Two cabbages- one green and one a sort of purplish-red, slowly scribbled their way into existence on the page, and after that a border of leaves, and finally words.

_Two cabbages, one red and one green  
One to change you and one to change you back_

“Change you to what?” Archie asked. 

“I don’t know. That’s all I remember.” Rosanna said. “It’s not quite like the mushrooms, I don’t think…”

“Which one does which?” The psychiatrist chose to bypass her last comment. He would ask her about mushrooms later.

“I don’t think it matters…” she said ponderously, twiddling her pen. “I think whichever one you eat does something, and then the other one always undoes it.”

“Where did you hear that story?” It changed every time. He’d never heard her repeat a single explanation, and he was beginning to wonder how she kept it all straight in her head.

“I found a gardener in the woods once who liked to talk.” Rosanna smiled, as if remembering. “He was nice. He gave me directions.”

“Where were you going?” Archie asked. Rosanna shrugged, shut her little book, and stood.

“Nowhere in particular…” She turned and smiled slyly at Archie. “It’s a rather difficult place to get to.” 

Archie didn’t respond, unsure of what to do. Rosanna rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder lightly with her little book.

“Oh, don’t be so stiff. That one was a quip.”

He laughed suddenly, surprised. She was outside. She was making jokes. Maybe she would recover after all…

There was just the little matter of the entire world inside her mind.

X

Rosanna started asking for tea in the afternoons. Archie didn’t know why, and neither did Whale, but she always drank it while she read or doodled in one of her little books (there were five of them now, all in different colors). 

Dr. Whale joined her some days, talking about whatever book she was reading or where she had added to her long list of places to travel to.

She always looked at her teacup strangely when she first picked it up off the tray. It was a pretty tea set made of white china with inlaid designs in a gold color. 

“Something wrong?” Whale asked, taking a sip from his own cup.

“It’s not chipped.” Rosanna seemed legitimately confused.

“Should it be?”

“I think so.”

X

“Are they real? The people in your dreams?” Archie asked, twirling his pen in his hand. Rosanna absentmindedly doodled in her little book while he asked her questions, come about what she remembered or what she was doing, and some about other things entirely. One thing that he learned very quickly was that Rosanna didn’t like to volunteer information. If you needed to know something, you had to ask her directly.

“Of course.” She sounded so surprised that Archie almost believed he was in the wrong for even asking her. Of course they were real. Of course.  
But they weren’t.

“How long have you been dreaming of them?”

“I don’t know…” Rosanna stared off into space, thinking, for just long enough that he wondered if she might be visiting her little world now. She looked over at him suddenly, eyes focusing back in and continuing down the exact same train of thought. “I do know the difference between reality and dreams, Dr. Hopper. Even when I dream about my dreams I know it. I know I’m dreaming.”

“How can you tell?” Archie asked, curious. How could she differentiate- were the brighter, happier ones the real ones and the scary ones the dreams of dreams? What did she associate it with?

“I just… know,” she said with a shrug. “It’s like I can tell by how they feel. The ones that are really the dreams don’t feel real, and then sometimes I ask them about it- why they danced a jig the last time I saw them or something- and they don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s different when I’m just visiting.”

“How does it feel when you’re visiting?” Archie asked, taking the natural progression of the conversation. Rosanna outright laughed.

“Dr. Hopper, I know that you’re trying to help me, but… There are other planets in the sky, yes?”

“Yes,” Archie said tentatively.

“And other galaxies in the universe?”

“Yes.”

“And people think that there is a real possibility of life out there?”

“Yes.”

“But has anyone ever been there?”

“Rosanna, those ideas are based on facts-” he began gently, but she shook her head, cutting him off.

“And those facts are only known because someone took the initiative to _wonder_ and _dream_ about it. It was all inside their head for years- a lot of it _still_ is! We _still_ don’t have any proof that there might be life on other planets, but does that make it any less real that there _could_ be?” 

“I… suppose not.” 

“So, answer me this,” Rosanna’s tone was even, her face honest and open. “Just because it’s happening inside my head… why should that make it any less real?”

Archie didn’t have an answer for that.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Time your riddles right, and make a point that has no sense_  
 _Make sure that you're smiling, and the money's been well spent_  
 _Innocence and ignorance, it all goes hand in hand_  
 _I'm not sure that I'm right, but I hope you'll understand_  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's important to note that when Rosanna/Belle says her "little book," it means one of her journals with her dreams in it. When it's just a "book," it's something she's reading.
> 
> Also, if you picked up on the excessive amount of references in that chapter, then four for you.


	3. Spinning

  
_So do I remind you of_  
 _Someone you never met_  
 _A lonely silhouette_  
 _And do I remind you of_  
 _Somewhere you wanna be_  
 _So far out of reach_

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a man, in her dreams. He had scales, and he was generally not very nice.

He liked to spin straw into gold.

Sometimes he would lock himself into his tower and spin for days, and she would have to drag him back out again, make sure he ate and slept properly (even thought something told her that he didn’t exactly need it). What he did need was someone to care for him. He needed someone there that cared what happened to him, and knew that he mattered, much like Rosanna had after her time in the asylum.

She didn’t see him very often, and when she did… he was always the hardest to remember. Most people couldn’t pronounce his full name- it sounded something like a sneeze- so he simply went by ‘Rum.’

X

“Do you ever think she’ll be ready for release?” Dr. Whale asked.

“Yes,” Archie nodded. “It’s very possible. I don’t want to push her, though. She needs time, and space, and she needs to build relationships with people again.”

“Any word on the family?” Whale plopped down on one of the break room chairs, coffee in hand.

“Sheriff Swan is on the case. Storybrooke’s small, but if they’re out there, we’ll find them. If not… that could make thing easier or harder on her. It all depends.”  
Four months after finding Rosanna in the basement, they were looking at plans for her release, where she might fit in with the town. Storybrooke’s library was in need of some work, but it was hardly small. The building was massive, and the place had two stories plus a basement chock full of dusty volumes waiting to be organized by a loving hand.

Whale and Archie decided that Rosanna’s hands would be just the ones for the job.

She loved reading, loved books, and she was smart. She’d pick up on the system in no time, and since she would live above the library it meant that she wouldn’t have to come out any more than she wanted. She could hide away all day if it pleased her, or she could come outside and stroll through town. It was the perfect situation, except…

“What are we going to do about her… um…” Whale began, but trailed off, unsure what exactly to call Rosanna’s stories. Archie only nodded in understanding.

“Her file indicates that she was admitted for amnesia, but we don’t actually know anything else. She was in the basement for a long time, and she wasn’t cared for while she was down there. She hasn’t interacted with other people for so long…” He sighed, but forced himself to stick with the point. “Her progress of remarkable for someone coming out of her situation, and I think that those… _stories_ … are part of the reason why.”

“Like… a coping mechanism?” Whale asked, leaning forward a little.

“Exactly,” Archie said. “I think that while she was down there she created this… world inside her mind, sort of like some kids play pretend. Since there wasn’t anyone around her, she created a place of her own, and she slipped inside it to help keep herself from falling apart.”

“Her madness keeps her sane…” Whale muttered. The psychiatrist seemed confused.

“It’s a quote,” the Doctor explained. “I read it somewhere…”

“She’s lucky,” Archie nodded. “We don’t know how long she was down there, but judging by her physical condition… nine months minimum, probably longer? Locked away like that, you lose physical and mental stimulus. It isn’t shocking that she’s delusional.”

“Don’t most people in solitary confinement talk about confronting past demons, though?” Whale asked. He wasn’t the psychiatrist, but he’d read a few things in medical school.

“She’s an amnesia patient. She doesn’t _have_ any past demons… or at least none she knows about,” Dr. Hopper sighed. “For all we know, little bits and pieces of her past could be manifesting themselves in dreams, and it’s just… distorted.”

“So… let me get this straight,” Whale began. “She’s locked down there, for whatever reason, and she shuts herself off from everything to keep her sanity, like a reflex or something, by making up this whole world inside her head, which may or may not be a reflection of her lost memories.”

“Basically, yeah.”

“And she just kind of… goes there sometimes when she needs it?”

“Well,” Dr. Hopper continued after a moment, “She doesn’t actually need it any longer, at least not for the same purpose, but as long as she learns to interact with real people… Rosanna is definitely sane enough to be released, and very smart. She’s very capable of taking care of herself, and… I honestly believe that anyone who hasn’t heard her talk about her dreams would think she’s perfectly sane.”

“So you’re saying that we need to get her out of here.”

“I’m saying we need to help her.”

X

Rosanna’s dreams came with about the same frequency throughout her time in the hospital. 

Almost every night she would dream of someone in some far-off land, only… it wasn’t a dream. Everything that she saw and felt there was so completely real. There was no way it could be a dream, could it? Not truly.

There were other planets in the sky and other stars, probably with other planets orbiting around them. Rosanna knew from her reading that people wondered about life in other galaxies, so what was so strange or out of the ordinary, or even impossible about another world?

She saw a prince once, traveling along a road in a gilded carriage.

Another time she shared a meal with a female warrior disguised as a man, and obtained directions from a girl who changed into a wolf when the moon rose.

None of their faces ever seemed to stick when she woke up. She drew them, a few of them, but they never seemed right, were never detailed enough. Too many little things were too foggy to make a solid picture. 

Today she met the Hatter for tea, and he sent her on her way to Rum’s castle. That was his name, just Rum. Once, she’d asked him why he didn’t go by his full name, but his only response was to question why she didn’t go by hers.

Rosanna replied that she did, in fact, go by her full name.

Rum insisted that no, in fact, she did not.

He liked to spin, and while he spun Rosanna would talk. She didn’t remember what they used to talk about, only that when he saw her he would smile a little, and that she no longer questioned why his skin was scaled or his irises just a little larger than normal.  
In recent times, she would tell him stories. Sometimes she talked about other people that she’d met or places she would like to go, and she wouldn’t leave until the entire pile of straw at his feet had been spun into sparkling gold thread. Straw into gold. What an interesting little quirk…

“Hello, dearie,” Rum said softly, accent pronounced. He didn’t look up when she entered, but he knew Rosanna well enough to tell her footfalls from anyone else’s.

She didn’t respond, just walked over and took a seat on the floor beside the spinning wheel, crossing her legs beneath her skirts and twirling a stray piece of straw between her fingers. She always wore a dress here for some reason- no one would tell her why except to say that it was “proper” clothing. Rosanna had eventually come to the conclusion that this world existed in some kind of medieval state. 

“Still spinning, hm?” Rosanna asked gently. “Why _do_ you spin so much?” She meant it as a rhetorical question, didn’t expect him to answer, but he spoke softly.

“I like to watch the wheel,” he whispered. “It helps me forget.” His hands ghosted over the wood lovingly. He could be such a harsh man sometimes, cold and unforgiving, but when he was at his wheel he looked young and alive and gentle, nothing like his scaly reptilian self that came out when he spoke to other people. 

“Forget what?”

A pause.

“I guess it worked,” he said with a shrug. Rosanna giggled despite herself.

In hindsight, Rosanna didn’t know how long she’d been coming to see him, or even how they’d met. All she knew was that she enjoyed his company. Rum was an interesting character- he was _layered_ , and every day revealed something new about him. She had vague recollections of scolding him for his temper early on, when the tiniest thing might set him off. She remembered thinking him a terrible man, and in a way she still did, and in a way he was terrible…

Her giggle decayed into a soft sigh.

“I don’t know why anyone would want to forget,” she mused. “Maybe forgetting for a day or an hour would be alright, but not forever. Never forever. I… I’ve forgotten so much…”

“Well,” Rum reached down to gently cup her face, tilting it upward to look at him. “Spinning wheels are good for many things. Perhaps it will help you remember.”

The sunlight streaming through the window shook her out of her dream.

X

Emma Swan always said that finding people was her job. It was what she did, it was her entire life, but… never once had anyone in Storybrooke asked her to find someone quite like this.

Archie sent her off looking for the family of the hospital’s newest fascination, an amnesiac named Rosanna French that they had discovered locked in the basement during an inspection. He suspected that if she had family they would still be in Storybrooke, but he couldn’t be certain. 

That was where Emma came in- Archie gave her a name, and she went out to try to tack down the family. Thankfully it hadn’t been too difficult, even with minimal information at her disposal. Maurice “Mo” French ran a small flower shop on the far end of town. From there, she was able to obtain his address, and knocked on the door of his house the very next evening.

“Yes?” The man who answered the door was relatively short, very overweight, and apparently rather annoyed, but all evidence of the latter vanished as soon as he caught sight of Emma’s badge. She could smell alcohol on him, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“I’m looking for Maurice French,” Emma said, tone even. 

“That’s me. What’s the problem?” Maurice straightened a little, trying to be taller or stronger, or perhaps just less afraid. 

“Rosanna.” Emma didn’t have to wait long for the name to have its desired effect. He paled, eyes growing wide. “Is she your daughter?” 

“She was.” 

“Was?” Emma raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. What parent would simply _not_ acknowledge their child? “Are you aware of where she is now?”

“The hospital’s got her.” Maurice shrugged nonchalantly. “Has for the past… six years now. They said they were doing some kinda research study on her condition.”

“And what was her condition?” 

“Memory loss. She fell and hit her head one day- massive amounts of memory loss. It’s lucky she made it out alive, they said.”

“Did she live with you before she went to the hospital?” Emma asked. No one in town seemed to have heard of her before- if she’d grown up in town surely there would have been more of a stink about this beforehand…

“No, no. She lived with her mother. We were divorced, and when Angelica died… Rosie came to live with me.” He looked guilty. That was never a good sign.

“What happened then?”

“She’s had those things- those _delusions_ \- since her accident. That’s why she went to live with her mother. I couldn’t _take_ it,” Maurice pleaded, as if begging her to understand. “After she lost her memory… She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t tell what reality was and what wasn’t anymore!”

“So you put her in the hospital and left her to rot.” Disgusting. 

“They said that they were using her for some kind of research study- something about amnesiac patients. They said she’d be taken care of. I’m well aware of the hospital’s reputation-”

“And I assume you’re _well aware_ of the fact that someone dumped her in the basement and nearly starved her to death, too, right?”

“ _What_?!” Shock distorted Mr. French’s features. “No- they said-”

“Who is _they_ , Mr. French?” Emma asked, suspicious. 

“I… I can’t say…” Maurice stuttered, looking around as if whoever it was might be watching him even at this moment.

“I think we’re done here,” Emma said, turning away to leave. 

“Please!” Mo called. She stopped for a moment, just long enough to hear him out. “My daughter. Is she alright?” Emma waved over her shoulder, but didn’t turn back.

“Have a nice day, Mr. French.”

There were only a few people in town powerful enough to put something like this into place, and according to Dr. Whale the old psych ward hadn’t been in use for decades. There would have to be someone on the inside to be sure that no one found her and that she didn’t die, and someone on the outside to get them the keys.

And in order to put that much effort into something like this, they would also have to have it out for either Rosanna or Mo. This wasn’t something petty- it would take planning.

To Emma’s knowledge, there were only two people in town powerful enough to make that happen: Regina Mills and Mr. Gold.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Once I had a halo, but then it caught on fire_  
 _Once I knew a good man, but he turned into a liar_  
 _Once I saw a blind man still looking for his eyes_  
 _Once I met a bastard who watched his father die_  



	4. Second Chance

  
_My eyes are open wide_  
 _By the way, I made it through the day_  
 _I watch the world outside_  
 _By the way, I’m leaving out today_

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two months after Rosanna was first discovered, Archie felt it was time for a change. She was _ready_ for a change.

“Rosanna?” Dr. Hopper knocked twice on the doorframe (the door was already open) before entering. She looked up from her book with a smile.

“Hey.” Rosanna closed the little journal in her hand and looked at Archie expectantly. 

“Would you be up to meeting someone new today?” 

“Depends on who it is,” she said carefully. It was a smart answer, really. She wouldn’t want to meet a doctor or nurse or another member of the hospital staff, but Archie thought it might be a good idea if she started meeting real people from town, introduce her to them slowly. He gestured for someone waiting outside to walk into the room.

The person outside was a woman, probably about Rosanna’s age. She had dark hair with bright red streaks in it, pale skin, and a shy smile similar to the one Rosanna herself wore.

“Hey,” she said softly, “I’m Ruby. I volunteer at the hospital sometimes, and… I thought you might want some company?” She looked hopeful.

Ruby did volunteer at the hospital sometimes, but the truth was that Archie had been looking for someone new to introduce to Rosanna, to try to help her come out of her shell a little and get used to new people. He thought it might help to meet another woman, and Ruby was the closest to Rosanna’s age that he knew of. She was kind and tactful- just the thing someone like Rosanna needed.

“Sure.” The brunette smiled and gestured for Ruby to have a seat in the other armchair. 

“So, what are you reading?”

“Jules Verne,” Rosanna said, closing the book gently. “It’s _Journey to the Center of the Earth_.”

“I read that once- it was one of my favorites. Have you read _20,000 Leagues Under The Sea_?”

Rosanna shook her head, but smiled. Archie quietly slipped out and left them alone.

Ruby started coming by once or twice a week to chat and exchange books, talking about whatever or whoever or wherever for hours until it was time for her to head back home. Rosanna enjoyed the company after she got over the nervousness of getting acquainted with the newcomer (Ruby was outgoing enough for the both of them), but the best part was that Ruby seemed to enjoy it just as much.

Friendship. Hm.

Rosanna couldn’t remember the last friend she’d had.

It was nice to have someone to talk to, and one new person... just one new person wasn’t so bad. It was even a little welcome. Rosanna had gradually become used to the appearance of both Whale and Archie in her room, and two regular nurses. Ruby seemed so bright and happy, so full of life, so unlike the doctors and nurses at the hospital that went about their days with a sort of monotone to their very existence.

Was this what outside meant?

If that was the case, Rosanna couldn’t wait to look in the mirror one day and see not a thin, pale girl who was frightened of crowds and closed spaces, who preferred the place inside her head to anyone real, but someone as unafraid and as happy as Ruby.

X

 

The last half of her time in the hospital was spent slowly adjusting Rosanna to the world around her. She met a few people- Mary Margaret, Ruby, Emma- people that Archie knew wouldn’t push her too hard or ask too many questions, people that she might run into often when she was finally released. It was all done in the safety of her hospital room, though.

They showed her pictures of the library and the living space above it. Rosanna seemed absolutely amazed at the sheer amount of books. Their plan was falling into place almost perfectly… there was just the little matter of the family to take care of.

Emma’s report brought several new theories to light, and he discusses the newfound information with Dr. Whale in his office one afternoon.

“So it wasn’t a coping mechanism for the confinement,” Whale said, realization lighting up his features, “It was a coping mechanism for the memory loss itself.”

“I’m not even sure we can speculate at all anymore.” Archie shook his head. 

“Do you still think that’s she’s alright for release?”

“Well, according to Emma the father isn’t dangerous. She’s been keeping a watch on him, but no more information has surfaced. I think that as far as the town goes, she’s fine…”

“But what about as far as _Rosanna_ goes?” Whale asked, prodding. He was only qualified to make sure that she was physically healthy. His knowledge of her mental state didn’t go near as far as Archie’s did. The psychiatrist interacted with her almost every day. If anyone thought it was time to release Rosanna, then Archie would be the one to trust.

“If you ever want her to make full recovery… yes. It’s a big jump, but if she feels ready, then I think it’s time.”

X

The tiny bell on the door to the pawn shop jingled as Emma stepped inside, letting the door swing shut with a thud behind her.

“I do hope you’re not going to break my little bell,” Mr. Gold grumbled from the back room. Pushing the curtain across the entrance to the side, he walked up to the counter slowly, a curious look on his face. “I assume you’re not here to arrest me again, so how can I help you, Miss Swan?”

“Have you ever heard of someone named Rosanna French?” Emma asked. She expected the cool, impassive mask that Gold usually wore, but his face showed genuine surprise. 

“I…” he mumbled, wetting his lips. Nervous behavior. Why? “Any relation to Moe French?”

“His daughter,” she nodded in confirmation. “You’re sure didn’t know her?”

“No. No, I didn’t…” For once, he seemed dazed, lost in a memory. Emma didn’t buy his story, but something about his manner suggested that he wasn’t behind this.

However…

“Look, I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but I have a talent for telling when people are lying,” Emma said coldly, looking him directly in the eye. “And I don’t buy your story one bit.”

“What _do_ you ‘buy,’ Miss Swan?” Gold asked, the façade slipping back into place.

“I don’t think you’re the one who dumped her into the hospital basement and left her to rot in a cell, but-”

“What?!” 

“So you do know her,” Emma smirked, but Gold wasn’t about to hear it.

“Tell me what’s happened to her,” he all but growled. It was a threat, and very much undisguised. Emma leaned forward, hands on the counter.

“Let’s make a deal, Gold,” she said quietly, “You tell me what you know, and I tell you where she is. If you don’t, then I do everything in my power to keep you away from her, because frankly I don’t think it’s a good idea under the circumstances to let you anywhere near her.”

She still owed him a favor, he thought. It was a way out. He could use it any time he wanted, and he wouldn’t have to tell her a single thing, but… that could be a very large disadvantage. If Sheriff Swan knew the truth, or at least a little of the truth, and if it really was Belle… it might work to his benefit.

And he could save his favor for a… _rainier_ day.

“Alright,” Mr. Gold nodded. “I’ll tell you what I know. Why don’t you have a seat, Sheriff?” He gestured to a pair of chairs behind the counter, sitting in one himself and leaving the other for Emma. She walked around behind the counter, sat heavily, and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Start talking.”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Gold wagged a finger in a scolding motion. “Let’s not get too hasty. In order for me to tell you what you want, _I_ need to know what it is that _you_ know. What happened to her? Is she…” He couldn’t even say it.

Emma studied him a moment, staring at her, words caught in his throat.

“No. She’s not dead.” Mr. Gold visibly relaxed. “But she isn’t in great shape either. Dr. Whale found her in the hospital basement during a building inspection.”

“What’s _happened_ to her, Sheriff?” Mr. Gold was losing his patience quickly. 

“Why do you _care_?” Emma retorted. 

“Because if we are talking about the same person, then she used to mean very much to me, Miss Swan. She still does,” Gold replied through gritted teeth. “She is a kind and caring woman, and I would protect her with my life.”

“If?” The Sheriff leaned back in her chair, obviously settling in for a long explanation.

“When I knew her she didn’t go by Rosanna,” he explained, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was going to get tedious, and it might be even worse for him if no one else had memories of her- it would become very easy to be trapped in his lies…

But then again, the best lies are always the half-truths, and everything he had just told Emma was the honest truth.

“What did she go by?” She blinked, surprised.

“Belle,” Gold whispered. “Her name was Belle.”

The pair sat in silence for a long moment, the information that Mr. Gold had just spouted off rolling around in her mind. She thought he was telling the truth- _thought_ \- but there was no way to be sure, no matter how much she told Henry about her “superpower.”

“Are you planning on holding up your end of the deal, Miss Swan?” Gold asked, impatient.

“Mr. Gold…” she began slowly. This news might come as a shock to him, especially if she meant something to him. Even more so if (and she almost shuddered to think) they meant something to _each other_. She was blonde, not stupid. It was easy enough to read between the lines. “Rosanna is an amnesia patient. Even if you did know her once… I’m not sure…”

“She wouldn’t remember me.” Mr. Gold finished the sentence for her, the strain evident in his voice. She’d never seen him this emotional before- not that he was emotional at all compared to other people she’d met, but compared to his usual demeanor he was practically crying on her shoulder.  
“And I don’t want to force anything on her she’s not ready for. She’s not very good with new people, and-”

“I understand,” he interrupted. It took her a moment to register his words.

“What?”

“I said I understand, Sheriff. Just… give me a call when you think she can handle it. I want to see her.”

Emma nodded, rose from her chair, and was halfway out the door before one other question occurred to her.

“Mr. Gold?” He looked up, attentive. “Where did you think she was all those years?”

She could have been imagining things, but Emma would have sworn up and down that his voice cracked as he spoke. 

“I thought she was dead.”

X

“How do you like it?”

Archie had walked her up the back staircase to the library apartment. Formerly an attic, sheetrock had been placed over the bare wood and wood flooring put in. There was also central heating and air conditioning, and a few pieces of furniture. The entire apartment was one room except for a bathroom in the corner, the walls painted a soft cream color to keep the atmosphere bright, and a little awkwardly shaped (Belle counted seven walls, though the roof was gazebo style and didn’t slope like a traditional attic might have). 

Compared to her cell, the hospital room was huge. Compared to her hospital room, this place was made for a giant.

There were rods running along one wall to serve as a kind of closet (indicated only by five or six lonely clothes hangers), a small kitchen in the corner, a bed in another corner, and the area in the middle of the room cleared out for whatever the occupant might want it for. There was a door near the kitchen that Archie said led downstairs and directly into the library itself.

“It’s perfect.” Rosanna smiled brightly, hesitantly taking a look around her new home.

“It’s not much to look at, but we thought you could decorate as you went.”

“We?” she asked, turning suddenly. Who else had helped with this?

“It was kind of a community effort to clean this place up,” Archie admitted. 

“That’s… unbelievable…” Gratitude washed over her in waves, threatening to push her over into crying. These people hardly knew her, and yet they had given her so much. She sat down on the edge of the bed, still trying to take everything in. They’d done so much for her- helped her turn around, get a new life started…

“How can I ever thank you?” she asked, meaning every word. Archie just blushed.

“Just… live well,” he said, fumbling a little for words. “And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

“Can I get started on the books in the morning?” Rosanna asked. 

“You can get started any time you want.” After a final check that she really would be ok by herself, Archie walked back out the door and down onto the street.  
Rosanna took her six little books out of her plastic bag and stacked them on the nightstand. She found some plain sheets on a shelf above the closet rods and put them on the bed. She hung her two sets of jeans and t-shirts on the hangers. She put the books she was currently reading on the small wooden table in the kitchen with two lonely wooden chairs.

And then the flopped down on her back on the bed, marveling at how good it felt to call somewhere her own, and closed her eyes sleepily, murmuring to someone who couldn’t hear her.

“I think you would like this place, Rum…”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

_I just saw Haley’s comet_  
 _She waved_  
 _Said why you always running in place?_  
 _Even the man in the moon disappears_  
 _Somewhere in the stratosphere_  



	5. Lost

  
_Because I found you in the corner_  
 _I pulled you out of the clouds_  
 _You left in such a hurry_  
 _Your face is lost in the crowd_

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rosanna got started on the library bright and early the next morning. She didn’t even take note of the time until realizing that her stomach was growling painfully. The refrigerator and the cabinets were stocked with the basic foods and cooking supplies, but… she didn’t actually know how to cook.

Maybe she should venture out into town…

But the thought scared her a little. She only knew a few people, and she had no idea where she was going… But she wanted to be brave. She wanted to live a normal life, and she couldn’t do that if she let herself turn into an agoraphobic.

Thankfully, on the way out the door she quite literally ran into Ruby Lucas, who was carrying a bag with two Styrofoam takeout containers.

“Hey!” she said, surprised. “I wasn’t sure if you would have any food around here or what, so I brought you some lunch.”

“Thanks, that’s… really nice.” Rosanna smiled softly, taking one of the containers. Inside there was a plain hamburger with lettuce, tomato, onion, cheese, and pickles on the side, and an order of fries.

“I wasn’t sure how you would want it, so I just… yeah,” Ruby shrugged, embarrassed. Rosanna put everything except the cheese on the burger and dug in, inviting Ruby to take a seat in one of the four slightly dusty chairs that made up the library’s reading are.

“This is fantastic!” Rosanna laughed. It was wonderful to have real food- the hospital’s meals were nourishing, but they weren’t exactly known for their flavor or artistry. A hamburger was a welcome change.

When was the last time she’d eaten a hamburger?

“It’s from Granny’s diner,” Ruby said, dipping one of her fries into a mound of ketchup. “Maybe sometime we can walk down there together?”

“Yeah,” Rosanna nodded slowly. “I should probably go out sometime…”

“I’ll go with you, if you want.” She took another bite of her burger, giving Rosanna time to consider her offer. “We could pick up Mary Margaret and show you around.”

Rosanna remembered Mary Margaret well- she was a hospital volunteer who loved stories, and spent most of her time in the children’s ward and with the elderly. She was nice and sensitive, and it wouldn’t feel crushing at all to be out with Ruby and her friend.

“When were you thinking?” Rosanna asked, expecting an answer like ‘tomorrow’ or ‘next Tuesday.’

“Whenever you feel like it.”

They ate in silence for a long while after that. It was nice to be offered so many choices, the freedom to do whatever she wanted, but sometimes… as much as she knew that everyone was trying to help her, and that she shouldn’t push herself too far, but sometimes Rosanna felt like she needed a direction. She needed a goal, something to work for. 

The library would be her goal for now, to get it cleaned up and running, but after that… what happened when that was over and done with?  
Maybe they would cross that bridge when they came to it. She remembered reading that somewhere… or perhaps one of those Billy Goats had told her.

“Ruby?” Rosanna suddenly had a thought. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure,” she nodded.

“Can you teach me how to cook?”

X

Over the next week, Ruby came over every day to help Rosanna with the library and show her a thing or two in the kitchen. Cooking wasn’t a huge step, she supposed, but it made her feel less helpless. It was one less thing that she needed to depend on people for.

Sometimes Mary Margaret came over to help them, or Emma, or another town resident named David Nolan when they needed help lifting things. Rosanna especially liked talking to David, because he was an amnesia patient, too. He was the only person in the town (so far) that could identify with anything that Rosanna was going through, and he completely understood about rediscovering yourself and your surroundings.

He also didn’t think her stories were crazy. Ruby knew a few of them, but after talking with David for only a few minutes, she felt comfortable enough to tell him more. He thought that maybe- just maybe- they were a way of finding herself again. 

David reminded her of a prince in her stories… he was looking for a woman. 

Not her prince, of course. Rosanna didn’t _have_ a prince.

As time went on, Rosanna grew used to company. Three other people in the room besides herself no longer felt stifling, and the chatter was warm and welcoming once she became accustomed to jumping into the conversations.

Ruby and Mary Margaret came over for dinner every couple of days and helped her cook something, but it was Emma, the recently appointed town sheriff, who helped her the most. After living on her own for so long, she knew the tricks to making things that were simple, inexpensive, and still tasted good. She wasn’t as much of a cook as Ruby, but little things like eggs, macaroni and cheese, and other simple meals were more than welcome. Rosanna wrote down every recipe (all the way from scrambled eggs to some kind of breakfast casserole that didn’t look so great, but tasted fantastic) on an index card. 

After the first two weeks of living out of the library, Rosanna finally thought it was time to go around town. Ever since the warm weather started, she’d been itching to go out, but hadn’t really trusted herself to do so yet. However, it was a sunny day and there was a park right across the street. She could take a book and sit in the sunshine for a while- the atmosphere would be a welcome change.

It was her first step towards being a part of the town, and not the hermit that lived in the library’s attic. 

She sat in the park for an hour, reading on a bench in the sunlight, close enough that the library and the main road were still in sight.

Emma came by and said hello briefly, and Rosanna met her son.

Reading outside became her daily ritual very soon.

X

By the fourth week in her new home, Rosanna was comfortable enough to go out into town on her own.

She didn’t go far, maybe a block or two one way or the other, or a walk just a little bit farther into the park than she might have on another day. She’d met most of the residents already, and they might wave to her on the street or stop for a quick chat.

Everything was coming together slowly, bit by bit and piece by piece. Slowly was good. Slowly was what she needed.

And for a little while it didn’t matter that her memory had been shattered and the pieces scattered to the four winds. It didn’t matter that she was still nervous eating at the diner when it was nearly full of customers. It didn’t matter that she still had her dreams.

All that mattered was making a new life for herself out of the ashes of the old one.

“Who’s that?” she asked, gesturing to a man walking on the other side of the street. He was hunched over, head ducked and obviously in a hurry, walking with a cane. She was out to lunch with Ruby and Emma, and they were walking back towards the library.

“Him?” Ruby scoffed. “You don’t want to be around him. He’s the grumpy old landlord for half the town.”

“Oh.” Rosanna bit her lip. 

“Why do you ask?” Emma raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s just… I’ve never seen him before and…” she trailed off, trying to think what it was she was trying to describe. “He looks so lonely.”

“Yeah, well, he deserves it as nasty as he is…” Ruby chattered on, quickly switching to a different subject, but Rosanna couldn’t shake his image from her mind. One thing she’d noticed very quickly about Storybrooke was that everyone seemed to have someone else- a parent, a grandparent, a child, a friend… why didn’t he?

X

Emma left Ruby with Rosanna at her apartment, pulling out her cell phone and dialing the number for the pawn shop. Mr. Gold’s rough Scottish accent fuzzed through the speaker.

“Hello?”

“It’s Emma. Remember when I said I’d give you a call when it was time?”

“Yes…”

“It’s time.”

X

Mr. Gold walked down the street towards the library, or more specifically, towards the back of the library. It wasn’t often that new people came into their little town… and, if the rumors proved true, this person wasn’t actually new.

It might be beneficial to find out who exactly had moved into the flat above the library, but he doubted it would be anything special (or that was what he told himself). After all, the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming was probably as much of a surprise as anything… and he’d been expecting that one.

As Gold turned the corner, he ran into Ruby Lucas, the little wolf girl. Ruby immediately stopped, looking him over suspiciously.

“The rent’s paid three months in advance. There’s no need to bother Rosanna,” Ruby said automatically, as if that would deter him from going up to see the library’s newest occupant.

“I’m not here for the rent- why does everybody always think I’m here for the bloody rent?!” Gold huffed, exasperated. He was well aware of the fact that the rent had been paid in advance- Mr. Gold kept meticulous records of all his deals, and he remembered making this one with the hospital board. He hadn’t known who the occupant would be then.

“Then why are you here?” Ruby was obviously suspicious, and rightly so, he supposed. 

“I’m here to meet our newest resident,” Gold snapped. The wolf still seemed wary.

“Be gentle with her,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors…”

“Locked in the old psych ward in the hospital basement for who knows how long. Yes, I’ve heard.” He did his best to sound annoyingly disinterested, but it was hard to hide his curiosity. Even though he knew in his logical mind that the chances of it being _her_ were slim, he couldn't help the flutter of hope in his chest...

“She’s doing well, but keep in mind that it’s been a long time since she interacted with real people. We’ve been introducing her to the town little by little- she’s met about half of them so far, in small groups and one-on-one, but-”

“Are you suggesting I might frighten her, Miss Lucas?” The pawnbroker raised an eyebrow. 

“Actually, yes,” Ruby snapped. For a slight woman, she could quickly get into a temper over her friends’ safety. “I’m not going to tell you not to go up there, because she needs the interaction, but don’t push her, and whatever you do… don’t call her crazy.”

“Why would I-” Gold was going to ask why he would think she was crazy, but Ruby was already gone. With a shrug, he rang the buzzer on the outside of the door. After a second or two the speaker crackled to life with a woman’s voice.

“Yes?” 

The sound caught him off guard. Surely he was hearing things- it was only one word. Something inside him said that he would never mistake that voice, though.

“Yes, hello? Is anyone down there?”

She was dead. She was dead- there was no other explanation, there couldn’t be…

And yet that was her voice.

Gold cleared his throat and forced himself to speak.

“Yes, my name is Mr. Gold,” he said, voice shaking only a little, “I just came over to say hello to our newest resident.” There was a long pause before she responded, as if she was considering him.

“Ok,” she near-whispered. It was so different than the voice he knew- so scared and small. The back door buzzed open, though, and he slowly made his way up the long back staircase. At the top there was another door on a landing, and he stopped for a moment to gather his nerves before knocking.

X

On the other side of the door, Rosanna tried to calm herself. She needed to get out more, she knew. This was only her first month here, but she still felt like a recluse, locked away in her library, and no matter how well the cleaning process was going… _people_ were more important, weren’t they?

That’s what they told her anyways, the people in her dreams. That’s what the wolf girl said, and she was helping even in the daylight hours. That’s what the female warrior told her by a campfire late at night, and that was what she told… 

But now she was rambling to herself, and there was a knock at the door. Steeling her nerves and schooling her features, Rosanna turned the knob and opened the door to reveal her visitor.

He wasn’t a tall man by normal standards, but compared to her 5’2” he was very tall. His hair was longer than most men wore it, brown and soft-looking. He carried his cane, and though she hadn’t looked twice at him from a distance, up close he seemed… familiar.

She couldn’t put a finger on it.

Was it something about the height? The stride? The accent? Yes, perhaps it was the accent, or maybe the nose. Maybe it was the look in his eyes.

Brown eyes.

Why did she think that they shouldn’t be brown?

X

Belle.

She was really Belle.

He didn’t know how, and frankly he didn’t care, but it was Belle. Too skinny and frightened, definitely not the same person that he left in the Dark Castle all those years ago, and she probably didn’t remember him, but… all that was alright, because she was _alive_. He fought the urge to run up and hug her, to apologize until his throat was raw and relish the fact that she was here, _alive_.

However, he was also standing on her stoop gaping like a codfish, and that was probably _not_ a very good first impression. Rather than gape, he took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Belle, catching her in a crushing hug. She gasped in surprise, stiffening.

“I- I’m sorry… do I know you?” she mumbled, words almost lost against his shoulder.

“No,” Gold shook his head, releasing her. There were tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you don’t.”

“Did… did you know me before? Before I lost my memory, I mean.” Belle asked. Of course she would jump to that conclusion- it would be the most logical. He was simply happy she didn’t think he was insane.

“You could say that, yes,” he whispered. “I’ve missed you.” He couldn’t stop himself- he had to tell her, even if she wasn’t aware of the full extent of those words, even if he couldn’t say ‘I love you’… ‘I’ve missed you’ was a nice start.

“Really?” Her bright blue eyes were enough to drown him. “It’s just… no one else in town seems to remember me at all.”

“Oh, I could never forget you.”

He was about to say something else, but there was a buzzing noise that indicated someone was waiting at the bottom of the staircase. Belle sighed softly.

“I’m sorry- that’s Archie. He comes over for, erm, therapy sessions twice a week.”

“I’ll let you alone, then.” Every single bone in his body told him to stay, but another part of him was crying loudly that he needed time to gather his wits, get himself together, and in general figure out what the _hell_ he was going to do!

Mr. Gold was about halfway down the staircase when she called after him.

“Would you like to come over for tea sometime?” she asked, hesitant. “Maybe Saturday? It’s just that I’ve never met anyone who knew me before, and I… well…” Belle trailed off, shuffling her feet nervously. So she was curious, but curiosity was exactly the icebreaker he needed. Just a little time alone would be welcome, just a little time to try and make up for the wrong he’d done her years before.

“I’d like that very much.” 

Belle smiled in a way that made it very difficult not to let the tiniest spark of hope come to life in his chest…

But then again, it was probably best that he crush it himself. He didn’t think he’d be able to take it again if someone else did… especially not her.

However… that wouldn’t stop him from finding the cretin that did this to her and watching the life drain from their eyes.

And he knew exactly who it was.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_I dare you to tell me to walk through fire_  
 _Wear my soul and call me a liar_  
 _I dare you to tell me_  
 _I dare you to_  



	6. Fragile

  
_Hello_  
 _Are you still chasing the memories in shadow?_  
 _Some stay young and some grow old_  
 _Come alive_  
 _There are thoughts unclear you can never hide._

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She picked her way across the floor in bare feet, avoiding the shards of broken glass and debris. Someone had smashed in the cabinet, and the glass was everywhere. She was sure that her feet must be bleeding, but she couldn’t feel it. Chairs and tables were toppled, the curtains drawn closed and the candles snuffed out. The lamp in her hand was the only light to see by.

Where was he?

“Hello?!” Rosanna called, voice echoing in the darkened passage.

Once out of the dining room, the floor wasn’t quite as hazardous, and she could focus on where she was going rather than how to get there.

The tower- that was her best bet. She hurried along as fast as she could, lifting her long skirts out of the way with one hand, and found the stairwell with relative ease. Everything was so dark- even the shadows on the wall seemed to take on a particular sort of black in color, the black that is so black that it eats everything around it, snuffing out all light until the only thing left is you… and the darkness.

The black that stands for sorrow… and mourning.

When she reached the top of the steps, she lit the lamps on either side of the door from her own. The spinning wheel had been toppled to the side, lying abandoned on the floor, there was straw scattered haphazardly around the room, intermingled with tiny pieces of gold thread.

It took her a moment to place the man-shaped shadow sitting on the sill, staring out the window. Even the sky was that same sort of black- no moon, no stars, no evidence of any existence out in the great beyond. 

“Rum?” Rosanna walked forward slowly. He turned at the sound of his name, quickly at first, and then slowly.

“You’re not here,” he said softly, shaking his head.

“I _am_ here.” She didn’t understand what had happened in her absence, but it couldn’t have been good. Everything was so dark and lonely…

“You can’t be. You left…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rosanna walked over to him quickly, taking a seat beside him. “I come and go, but-”

“This isn’t the same. You _forgot _me.” He started to edge away from her, but Rosanna caught his hand between her own before he could.__

__“I could never forget you!” she protested. Rum stayed stock still, eyes scanning her features, registering her every movement. She slid just a little closer to them, their sides pressed together, eyes locked. His hand strayed to rest on her knee, tracing its way along her thigh and shifting to travel up her arm, ghosting over her skin until he cupped her face._ _

__His scaled skin was much softer than she thought it might be._ _

__“Belle…”_ _

__She was about to ask him what he meant, but she didn’t get a chance before his mouth pressed softly against hers. His free hand drifted to her waist, bringing her closer to him._ _

__Rosanna made a muffled noise of surprise, eyes fluttering closed as he slanted his lips against hers to deepen the kiss._ _

__She’d never been kissed before. Or at least, she didn’t _think_ she had. It made her heart ache in a strange kind of way. In a _good_ kind of way. She didn’t know what she was doing by any means, but she kissed him back. _ _

__After she woke up, Rosanna could have sword that he’d murmured something against her lips, something too precious for her to repeat, or even think. It didn’t matter that he was scaled and grumpy- he was kind to her, and she found herself wishing she could go back to sleep for just a little while…_ _

__But she wouldn’t go back there. That wasn’t how these things work._ _

__There was a strange taste in her mouth- like cinnamon and… something else. Metal, perhaps. A voice in her mind cried out “magic,” but that was silly…_ _

__Or was it?_ _

__It couldn’t be any sillier than thinking he’d whispered “I love you.”_ _

__X_ _

__Mr. Gold showed up exactly on time for tea on Saturday. Odd- he didn’t think many Americans observed teatime. Everyone had in the old world… It was no reason to get his hopes up, though. Maybe she was just one of those people that simply enjoyed tea and desired company._ _

__He rang the buzzer and was almost immediately answered._ _

__“Come on up.”_ _

__How did she…? A glance upward revealed wide windows that would give a plain view of anyone at the door, and if he wasn’t mistaken the blinds were moving. Trying to calm his racing heart, Gold walked up the back stairs slowly and let himself in._ _

__The flat was spacious and open. Everything was one large room with no dividers- cozy, in an odd way. Living in a large space would be good for someone who had been locked away as long as she had. Be- _Rosanna_ herself was carrying a tea tray over, sitting it down gently on the coffee table before glancing his way._ _

__“Hello,” she said, eyes wide. Her blue dress made them seem even brighter than they already were. She wasn’t smiling, but she didn’t seem afraid, either. She looked… curious._ _

__“Hello,” he replied, dazed. He wanted to say something more intelligent, but he simply couldn’t think of anything. Just the sight of her alive after so long…_ _

__“Um… you can have a seat, if you like.” Rosanna bit her lip and gestured towards one of the two chars by the coffee table._ _

__He’d never actually been in the apartment above the library before now, but there were little touches of her everywhere. She didn’t seem to have any bookshelves, but there were small piles of them scattered around the everywhere, much like her room in the castle. A pot of something simmered on the stove. A warm blanket with a pattern of roses lay across the small bed, and rather than a television she had a stereo and a pile of CDs of all sorts. Something classical- Mozart, maybe- wafted through the air._ _

__“How do you take your tea?” Belle asked, shuffling around with something in the kitchen._ _

__“Just milk, no sugar…” Gold said, taking a seat on one of the overstuffed armchairs. Belle busied herself with the tea while he fought not to stare. He didn’t ever think he’d see her again. There was another small stack of books on the coffee table, the top one with a tasseled bookmark hanging out of it._ _

__“It’s a good book,” Rosanna said, noticing his gaze. He hadn’t even looked at the title, only thinking about how she used to read in the Dark Castle, fingers stroking the pages lovingly. The book was called _The Three Musketeers_. It rang a vague bell with his curse memories, something about a place called France, but he didn’t remember reading it._ _

__“I’ve never read it, I’m afraid,” he admitted. Rosanna took a seat opposite him with a nod, wringing her hands in her lap._ _

__“You should, sometime. It’s good for… getting away, I guess.” She shrugged and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously, then seemed to shake herself and extended her hand. “I- I’m Rosanna French, but I guess you already knew that. I guess it’s a bit late for introductions, too…”_ _

__“Rosanna. Yes, I’ve heard once or twice…” Gold rolled the name around on his tongue, truly thinking about it for the first time, and reached out to shake her hand. It sounded… not entirely wrong, but it definitely wasn’t _Belle_. “What a lovely name.”_ _

__“Thank you.” She smiled a little as a slow blush crept up her cheeks. Had no one ever complemented her before? He remembered that same blush, the day that she’d fallen off the ladder and into his arms. He remembered cradling her against him, even for those few seconds, her form pressed against his and her head on his shoulder, her arms around his neck…_ _

__“Gold, but I expect you knew that as well.” He introduced himself by his surname out of habit rather than preference, and on the assumption that half the town had tried to warn her off him already._ _

__“No first name? Just… Mr. Gold?”_ _

__“R- Rumford,” he spluttered, catching himself. Rosanna visibly stiffened, dropping his hand._ _

__“Something wrong, dearie?” It was apparently the wrong thing to say, because she not only didn’t relax, but if it was possible she grew even paler._ _

__“No,” she squeaked, shaking her head nervously. “Nothing at all.” She took a sip of her tea, looking not unlike someone taking a swallow of liquor to steady their nerves._ _

__“So… you knew me. Before.”_ _

__“I did.”_ _

__“What was I like?” She tilted her head slightly, listening. Gold spluttered, trying to think of an answer that she would be able to comprehend, that was the truth but not… all the truth._ _

__“You were… you were smart,” he settled on that for now. “You were always smart, and you loved books. Determined, headstrong, just a little but stubborn. You saw the good in everything and everyone, no matter who or where.” He didn’t even realize how softly he was speaking or how he was staring into space, off into his memories._ _

__All he saw was his Belle…_ _

__And the fact that she didn’t _really_ see him._ _

__X_ _

__“How did you know me?” Rosanna asked, studying him carefully. Gold shook his head slightly, as if coming out of a daze._ _

__“I’m sorry?”_ _

__“How did you know me?” she repeated, trying to keep her voice steady. How come no one else in this blasted town had ever know her before the hospital? How come she didn’t have any family here? Did they abandon her? Who did she live with before?_ _

__Why was she even there in the first place?_ _

__And why did he remind her so much of…_ _

__That wasn’t right. It couldn't be right. He was in another world, a world that she couldn’t control her visits to, and he told her…Mr. Gold definitely couldn’t feel the same way about her that rum did. It wasn’t possible, and yet every time she looked at him… she saw her spinner._ _

__The worst part was his voice. It was deeper, a little darker, but the accent was the same, and she hadn’t ever heard anyone else use the word “dearie” before. Strange, so strange._ _

__And then there was his name. Rumford. _Rum_ ford. Surely that wasn’t a coincidence, and why had he been so disinclined to give it? Were they only on a last name basis before? And if so, then why did he look at her with such kind eyes? Why had he gathered her in his arms when he first saw her? _ _

__Why did he even agree to come over for tea?_ _

__“I… You used to work for me, a long time ago.” The words shook her out of her thoughts. She didn’t even realize he’d been fumbling for an answer._ _

__“How long?” Rosanna asked, fiddling with her now empty teacup._ _

__“Several years,” Gold said with a shrug. “Before you came to Storybrooke.”_ _

__“Oh.” She dropped her eyes, mildly disappointed. As silly as it was, she’d hoped for something a little more… special. Something a little bigger, perhaps, something a little more adventurous._ _

__“What?”_ _

__“It’s nothing,” she tried to brush it off, but the thought was eating her alive. “Just… who was I? To you, I mean.”_ _

__“As in… what?”_ _

__“As in was I just your employee, or was I your friend, or… what?” She all but held her breath, waiting on an answer. Mr. Gold paused, obviously thinking. He was trying to be gentle with her, she could tell, to not push her into her past too quickly, but she wished sometimes…_ _

__She wished he wound tell her the blunt truth._ _

__“You were a flicker of light in an ocean of darkness,” he whispered. “Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”_ _

__Her heart sped up immediately. It could mean a thousand things, half of which she wasn’t ready for at all…_ _

__Maybe it was better this way._ _

__X_ _

__Moe French was more than mildly surprised when the town pawnbroker wandered into his shop one morning. He’d turned in the rent on time, hadn’t he?_ _

__“Hello, Mr. Gold. What’s-” he cut off almost immediately as Gold pulled a small pistol out of his pocket, looking at it thoughtfully._ _

__“I’ll make you a deal, dearie,” Mr. Gold practically growled. “You tell me what you know about your daughter, who it was that damn near killed her in that hospital, and I’ll let you live.”_ _

__“How do you know about Rosanna?” Moe’s eyes were trained on the gun, and he stood stock still in the middle of the flower shop._ _

__“It doesn’t really matter, now does it? All that matters is why you put her in there.”_ _

__“I didn’t,” Moe whispered, almost visibly shaking with fright._ _

__“You didn’t? Then how, pray tell, did she wind up in the hospital basement?” there was no mistaking the murderous glint in his eyes. Mr. Gold was dangerous on a regular basis, but when he was angry he was downright deadly._ _

__“She said she needed her for a- a clinical study,” Mr. French stammered._ _

__“She?” Gold’s eyebrows shot up. “Who is _she_?”_ _

__“Can’t say,” Moe shook his head vigorously. “She’d kill me if I did…” At that point Mr. Gold lost his patience. He leveled the pistol at Moe French, finger on the trigger. At this close a range he wouldn’t need to be a good marksman for a fatal hit._ _

__“And I assure you, Mr. French, that I will kill you if you don’t. Pick. Your. _Poison_.”_ _

__“I- I- ”_ _

__“One,” Gold closed one eye, lining up his sight._ _

__“It’s not that-”_ _

__“Two,” He cocked the pistol. Moe was sweating by now, quite literally. Under stress was exactly the way Gold needed the man._ _

__“Please!”_ _

__“Thr-”_ _

__“MAYOR MILLS!” Moe shouted, covering his face with his hands. “She told me to put her in the hospital. She said Rosanna would be under her personal care.” Gold relaxed, slipping the pistol back into his jacket pocket. He didn’t know if he would have shot him or not had he decided to protect the mayor._ _

__Ah, well. They would never find out, and it was probably for the best that he hadn’t shot Belle’s father. Should she ever recover her memory (and she would, assuming that Emma did her bloody job right), it wouldn’t look good for him to have Maurice’s blood on his hands._ _

__“Thank you for your time Mr. French,” Gold smiled coldly and topped his hat in the man’s direction before turning towards the door. “You’ve been most helpful.”_ _

__Now… time to go seek an audience with the Queen._ _

__And perhaps inquire about job openings for executioners…_ _

____

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Speak to me_  
 _So I can understand your tongue_  
 _You seem_  
 _Rather fragile_  



	7. Broken

_If you only knew_  


_How many times I counted_  


_All the words that went wrong_  


_If you only knew_  


_How I refuse to let you go_  


_Even when you're gone_

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Gold came over for tea again the next Tuesday, four days later.

He decided it was in everyone’s best interest to wait before striking on Regina. There was no point in barreling forward, blinded by rage, when he could inflict so much more punishment in the long run if he watched and waited. The methods from the old world still applied here- the only difference was that there wasn’t any magic that could go awry in the process.

Besides, this way she wouldn’t have any knowledge of his memories, and that could work to his advantage in the long run.

For now he was perfectly content to sit across from his Belle, drinking tea and answering her questions. Granted, she wasn’t really his any longer, and the questions all pertained to her shattered memories and a life that she was struggling to rebuild, but with time and patience it might be possible to change that.

“What did you think happened to me?” She asked, eyes wide. “Where did you think I went?”

“Why do you ask?” Gold was careful to keep his tone neutral, giving away nothing. He wouldn’t lie to her if he didn’t have to, but he couldn’t very well tell her the whole truth. She’d never believe him.

“It’s just… you’re the only one in town who knew me before I was in the hospital. Someone have to have put me in there in the first place.”

“ _What_? I would _never_  hurt you, love.” Did she actually think he would do that? He mentally cringed at the slipped endearment, but she didn’t seem to notice, continuing her line of questioning.

“Then what did you think? What did people tell you? Why didn’t you look for me?”

“It’s not that simple-”

“You had to have known something, didn’t you?! Didn’t you even care if I was ali-”

“I thought you were dead!” Gold shouted, unable to take the implications of her last statement. Rosanna grew very still, mouth slightly agape. “Suicide,” he whispered. “They told me you committed suicide.”

It was the truth, and it still hurt to admit even after he knew she was alive and well. He never even wanted to think about that possibility again.

Realization lit up her features, like she could suddenly understand every one of his forward actions since they met… and perhaps she could.

“Who told you that?”

“Three guesses and the first two don’t count,” he spat, disgusted. “Regina Mills has more blood on her hands than anyone could ever wash clean.”

“So she told you I was dead?” Rosanna sounded incredulous, but there was no doubt she’d heard the stories about Regina. It was likely that she was simply surprised to find them true.

“I would never let anything happen to you, Belle, I-” but here he cut himself off with a harsh huffing sound, burying his face in his hands. He couldn’t say that. Not yet.

 

X

 

What didn’t he want to tell her? He was possibly the only person in Storybrooke, or maybe even the world, who could give her the answers she wanted, and now he was restraining himself? What could be so bad that he wouldn’t want to tell her?

“Who’s Belle?” Rosanna asked tentatively, a little wounded.

“What?” He looked up suddenly, surprised.

“Just now- you called me Belle. Why?”

“It was something you used to go by,” Gold explained, eyes misty. “A very long time ago.”

“Oh.” Rosanna was quiet for a moment, trying to think of any reason why she might go by that name. “My… middle name is Isabella. Or at least that’s what it said on the hospital files. Maybe that’s where it came from?”

Mr. Gold didn’t seem to know what to say, and Rosanna… she wasn’t ready to think about the look in his eyes. He seemed so sad, so… old, but not like sixty or seventy or eighty years. He looked like he carried the weight of centuries on his shoulders, the weight of harm and bloodshed and loss. He looked…

He looked like Rum.

And that was a problem, both because there was a possibility that Rum might not exist, and because whether he existed or not… she might be in love with him.

“Maybe,” he nodded solemnly. “Maybe so.”

 

X

 

Regina Mills sat in her office, fingering a very old, very particular set of keys. There was one key on that ring for every door in Storybrooke. It might take a while, but any door that was locked, she could open with the little pieces of metal in her hand.

The door to the hospital basement hadn’t even needed urging.

Everything was working out the way it should- families torn apart, the whole town in the palm of her hand and ready to jump whenever she ordered it, and most importantly… Snow White was completely miserable.

The only little recurring problem came from Mr. Gold.

He was fine before Emma Swan came to town. Annoying, perhaps, and definitely a bigger threat to most of the town than she was in some situations, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle and mostly involved rent. They were always at odds in the old world, anyways. It was nothing new.

However, there had been some recent _changes_  that worried her. The first came after that stupid girl cut down her apple tree and she’d been left to pick up the pieces. When she asked if he knew anything about Emma or her son, he’d simply asked for her to drop the matter… with a very pointed “ _please_.”

That was the deal, in the old world, the price for giving her the last piece of the puzzle, for telling her how to make the curse work. He wanted a good life here, with power and comfort, and…

“ _Whenever I say ‘please…_ ’”

It was downright disturbing. No matter to her then, though, because if he didn’t remember then it was no danger, only a fluke. If he did remember, though, then Regina was more than prepared.

Well, perhaps the key word is “ _was_.”

She’d had that woman locked away in her castle for years before the curse was cast, waiting on the day that she might be useful, but Belle was the biggest pawn she had. In fact, she was too big to be considered a pawn- more of a bishop, or even a queen- the only piece on her side of the board that could put Rumpelstiltskin in check mate.

The hospital in Storybrooke was a stroke of genius on her part. One of the first things that she did when she came here was to check on all the residents- where they were, what they were doing. Belle and Charming had been some of the very first that she saw, and both in dire situations. Belle was living with a father who couldn’t handle her insanity, and Charming wouldn’t be doing _anything_  for a long while. It was almost perfect.

Almost.

The problem was that she couldn’t keep an eye on the French girl this way. In the old world she’d been locked up, and as much as the curse had twisted her situation around (an alcoholic, irresponsible father who didn’t seem to actually care for his daughter and couldn’t handle her if he did), Regina needed a way to keep Belle under her thumb. She needed a prison… but in light of her strange case of amnesia and other delusions, an asylum would do just as well.

The basement in the hospital was the psych ward, and placing Belle there was her very first job on her very first day in Storybrooke, twenty-eight years ago. Everything happened smoothly. Quietly. No one even noticed that the girl was gone, because no one in town had time to notice she was there. According to her father (or the memories his curse gave him, at least) she had only _just_  moved back in. The only problem with this was that while the asylum was wonderful for storage, at any time Belle could be released by the hospital staff if she seemed sane enough (not that she ever would, if the curse had done its work) without it being cleared through the mayor.

Airtight plans were always best, so Regina did what was necessary to make this one airtight. A little sabotage helped to ensure that the psych ward was no longer fit for use, and Regina had immediately ordered the basement closed off and seen to it personally that all the patients were moved out… all except one.

In hindsight, it seemed like an awful lot of trouble to go to for one girl, but when she thought of the weight that one girl would have against the only person in town who could possibly upset her balance of power (besides the Swan girl of course- she hadn’t known about her in time enough to plan), it made sense.

One of the hospital nurses helped her keep an eye on the girl- make sure she was still breathing. She wouldn’t be any good to them <i> _dead </i>_, but there was no reason that she had to be kept healthy. The plan had worked for years, keeping the basement locked to everyone except Regina and her agent, until the day that the sinkhole hit.

Everyone wanted the buildings inspected, especially the hospital. Regina hadn’t even known about it until after the fact, when it was far too late to move her out or come up with an excuse for her presence. They had broken down the damn door for lack of keys, and brought up a weak and delusional woman from the basement. The nurse would be severely punished for leaving her file in plain sight.

When Whale had first come to her and asked about Belle, the surprise on her face was genuine, but not for the reason that he imagined. She fumbled out that she had no clue that the girl had been locked away- who on earth would know? And where were the keys? Why hadn’t anyone even been downstairs in so long?

She channeled all her anger at losing her pawn into the performance, using it to make her seem concerned for the girl’s safety. Whale bought it. Archie bought it.

Ruby didn’t.

Swan didn’t.

The one day that Regina came by the hospital, looking to meet her and perhaps plant the seed of doubt about most of the residents in Storybrooke, the little wolf girl had been visiting. She said that she didn’t think it was a good idea for her to meet anyone, that Regina would be intimidating. Memories or no memories, Ruby hadn’t ever been fond of Regina, and she’d become attached to Rumpelstiltskin’s true love rather quickly. Between the Sheriff and the Lucas girl, Belle would be well protected from all threats, including Regina.

That would be why the first time they’d ever met was today.

 

X

 

Regina was standing on a street corner waiting to cross the road when Rosanna-Belle was coming home from grocery shopping, carrying a large brown bag. She’d tripped and almost dropped everything, but Regina caught the bag before it spilled and painted on a smile.

“Careful, there.”

“Thanks,” Rosanna smiled back gingerly, regaining her balance.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Regina said brightly. “Are you new in town?”

“Um, in a sense? I was in the hospital for… a while.” Rosanna bit her lip, looking nervous. Most of the town probably didn’t have to ask about her origins by now. Technically, Regina already knew everything she could possibly need to know, but talking encouraged trust.

They walked down the street side by side, reminiscent of another time on another road, a long way away…

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Regina Mills- the Mayor.”

“Oh,” Rosanna’s expression flickered to surprise, and then to something unreadable. “I’m Rosanna French.”

“Are you related to Moe French?” Regina asked, feigning surprise. Rosanna raised an eyebrow, confused. “He runs the flower shop on the other side of town.”

“I… hadn’t heard. I don’t actually remember much from before the hospital-”

“Well, perhaps you should visit him sometime. I’m sure he’d be glad to see you. I’d say you’re probably related somewhere down the line. I think I recalled him talking about a daughter once…” Regina smiled encouragingly, and Rosanna nodded, seeming to consider her offer.

“Maybe I will.”

“Good.”

Regina abruptly turned left and crossed the street, leaving Rosanna alone with her thoughts. Everything would play right back into her palm again in absolutely no time.

No one had told Belle about her family. No doubt they had made efforts to find him- she knew Emma well enough by now to be aware of her methods. However, she also knew Mr. French through her curse memories and through what little real experience she had with him.

Finding her father would be such a disappointment. She would feel betrayed on both sides of the spectrum, and come running back to Regina for support.

After all, the Mayor was the only one who had truly been honest with her, wasn’t she?

And as for Gold… if none of the town residents had opened up about Rosanna-Belle’s presence to her, why on earth would they tell the pawnbroker? Surely the rumors hadn’t reached his ears… and even if they had, he wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near her. Gold was even more feared than Regina was. Belle wasn’t likely to even meet him, what with the wolf and the Sheriff sniffing out everyone who came within a ten foot radius of her for the first few weeks of her time outside the hospital.

Everything was going exactly as she wanted…

 

X

 

Father. She had a father, and he was alive in Storybrooke.

Well, he was probably her father, at least.

What did he think happened to her? Where did he think she was during all that time? Worst of all, did he know? Was he responsible for it? Someone had to have put her in there in the first place, right?

Could he have prevented what happened to her?

Rosanna walked past the library without stopping to put her groceries away, heading straight towards the Sheriff’s office. Archie said that Emma was on the lookout for her family, but that he didn’t know of anyone by the name of French.

That was just over a month ago, before she left the hospital. If anyone knew the truth, it would be Emma. She walked inside and sat the groceries down on the Sheriff’s desk without bothering to say hello, and launched into her questions.

“My father’s in Storybrooke?” Straight and to the point, just like it should be. Emma’s face fell, immediately slipping into an expression of pure sympathy. She knew.

And apparently it _was_ her father.

“Who told you that?”

“Mayor Mills. Is he here?” She didn’t care about excuses- answers were all that mattered. Emma didn’t respond except to cringe at the mention of the mayor. “ _Is he here_?!”

“Yes,” the Sheriff finally nodded, cringing at Rosanna’s sudden outburst.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“It’s… complicated. I went to go talk to him, because we thought it might be a good thing if there was someone who could connect you with your past.”

“And yet I repeat: _Why didn’t you tell me_?” It didn’t make any sense. They wanted her to heal, but they hadn’t told her about her father- her _family_. Why?

“Your father is the one who put you in the asylum, Rosanna,” Emma said slowly, deliberately remaining calm for Rosanna’s sake. “We didn’t think you were ready to hear that yet, and then Mr. Gold came along and… well, as cranky as he is, he knew you, so we didn’t press it.” It took a moment for Emma’s words to sink in, but when they did the knowledge settled like a rock in her stomach. Rosanna gripped the back of a chair until her knuckles turned white, fighting to stay composed.

“He knew? My father, mean. The whole time…”

“Yes.” Emma

“And he didn’t… he didn’t even try…” She didn’t know how long she’d been in the hospital, but it certainly was long enough that he should have visited. Should have asked about her. Should have tried to make sure that she was alright.

“I’m sorry.” Emma walked over to stand beside her, but didn’t make a move to touch. It was probably best- Rosanna would have shoved her away.

“What did he tell you?” Thoroughly numb now, Rosanna slid into the chair and waited. She didn’t remember him- couldn’t ever remember his love or loyalty, so truly… was there anything to feel betrayed about? Her head told her no, but her heart said yes.

“Rosa-”

“Tell me. I want to know. I can take it.”

“He said that he couldn’t handle the stress of having an amnesiac daughter, and he couldn’t understand your…” she trailed off, unsure of what to call them. Rosanna nodded, understanding. “Apparently he thought you were in some kind of case study.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. It looked like her own father had tried to get rid of her, and what had happened to her mother? Did she have one- one that she knew, that is.

“I should go see him,” Rosanna said softly, standing on shaky legs.

“You don’t have to,” Emma began, but Rosanna cut her off.

“I do,” she said. “I don’t know who Rosanna French was before, but I’ve got her name and her life and her delusions, so I’m going to say that’s me. If I’m ever going to get on with the future… don’t I have a right to know my own past?”

 

X

 

Belle opened the door to the flower shop hesitantly. It swung open with barely a sound, closing behind her silently. She’d dropped off her groceries at the apartment and immediately made her way towards the flower shop that the mayor had mentioned.

This was only her second trip out alone, the day after she met Mr. Gold for tea. Strangely enough, he hadn’t mentioned anything about her father. If anyone knew about her family, she assumed it would be Mr. Gold, but… why wouldn’t he tell her?

“Hello?” she called, voice echoing in the small shop.

“Be right with you…” A yawn came from the back room, and a tall man stepped out a moment later. His accent was the same as Rosanna’s. “Can I help you?”

“Moe French?” She looked him up and down, surprised. Maybe there was resemblance around the eyes, or perhaps the hair…

“Yep, that’s me,” he nodded, but froze abruptly. His eyes grew wide with shock or recognition, or perhaps both. “Rosanna?”

She only nodded, unsure of what to say.

What do you call your father if you don’t remember he’s your father?

“How did you- when did you- why are you here?” he asked, flabbergasted. He hurried around from the other side of the counter and caught her up in a gentle hug that pushed her face into his shoulder. He smelled slightly of beer and fertilizer. It felt… odd. Awkward.

Obliging. That’s what it was. Obliging. It didn’t feel like he wanted to see her- it felt like his duty as a father demanded that he hug her, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t _relief_. It wasn’t the same as… It wasn’t the same.

“I was looking for you,” she explained. “They released me from the hospital.”

“Are you still…?” Moe waved his hands in the air in squiggling patterns. Rosanna assumed he meant her dreams.

“Yeah. It’s not so bad, though. And my memories are… they’re ok.” She shrugged, trying to hide the fact that she was certainly _not_  ok. If he was her father, why didn’t this feel like a reunion? Why didn’t it feel like fatherly affection? Why was it so _cold_?

“That’s good,” Moe said softly, nodding. He sounded almost as uncomfortable as Rosanna felt.

“Why didn’t you come and look for me?” She asked after a moment.

“In the hospital? I assumed you were well taken care of.”

“But you _knew_  I was there. You knew and you never even called or visited or checked on me in all that time?” It didn’t make sense. If he really cared for her, why didn’t he call? Why didn’t he know that she was captive in the basement?

Didn’t it matter to him whether she lived or died?

I’m sorry,” Moe said, dropping his eyes. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t handle it- I couldn’t take it. You were always talking about other worlds, other things that weren’t real. You needed _treatment_.”

“And what excuse do you have for leaving me all those years, hm?” she deadpanned, face expressionless.

“You didn’t even remember me-”

“I still don’t! I came looking for you anyways, because that’s what family _does_.” Rosanna snapped. “What does that change? Why does that make it alright?”

“They told me not to come and see you! They told me to leave you alone, that the recuperation was a delicate process-”

“So you listened without question and threw me to the wolves,” Rosanna bit her lip hard, holding back all of her other sharp words. “I see.”

“I never knew-”

“I know you didn’t… but tell me, did you ever really try to take care of me?” she asked. Moe only stared. “How old was I?”

“Nineteen,” he sighed. According to the date of birth in the hospital files, she was twenty-eight now. “You didn’t know anything- didn’t remember anyone. You were so scared, and you needed so much attention, and you wouldn’t believe anything besides what you saw in your own head… it was too much for me. Please, Rosanna. Let me be a father to you.”

“I’m sure you were… sometime,” Rosanna said with a sad little shrug. “But if you ever were… I don’t remember it. The reason I came here wasn’t to find my family again. I came here for closure, and I came for answers.”

“You won’t come home?”

“No,” she shook her head slowly. “It’s not my home anymore, really. I just needed the chance to close off a few loose ends, maybe see if there were any that I wanted to pick up again. So… thanks, because now I know that there aren’t. Goodbye, Mr. French.”

And she walked out of the shop.

I didn’t feel right to call him “dad.” He’d never done anything to deserve the title. Someday she might forgive him for that, for putting her in the hospital and leaving her… but not today. Not anytime soon, probably. There were too many things to sort out, to much of herself to discover and relearn, and too many fresh starts to make.

She had a chance to make something out of the ruins of her previous life.

What point was there in wasting it?

\---------------------------------------------------------------

_I don't want to live_  


_To waste another day_  


_Underneath the shadow of mistakes I made_  


_Cause I feel like I'm breaking inside_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you enough for the amazing support for this story!


	8. Through the Ghost

  
_All the precious moments are gone_  
 _All the perfect pieces are wrong_  
 _Everything that mattered is just_  
 _A city of dust_  
 _Covering both of us_

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After she left the flower shop, Rosanna went straight towards the one other person in town that she needed to see, the one other person who could have giver her answers.

Mr. Gold.

The pawn shop had a sign on the door that said “CLOSED,” but Rosanna wasn’t fooled. It was only 2:00 in the afternoon, and Mr. Gold was a workaholic. She had yet to figure out if he threw himself into his work to escape something, or if he actually was swamped with things to do, but regardless… he would be there.

Pushing on the door proved her right, and it swung open with a tinkling sound. There was a bell tied to the shop door here, too.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed.” Mr. Gold was nowhere to be seen, but his voice wafted out from the back room of the shop. Rosanna took a few steps forward, the floorboards creaking softly underfoot as she walked towards the curtained entrance to the back room.

“Hello? Did you-” Mr. Gold opened the curtain just as Rosanna was about to, and she jumped back in surprise. His eyes went wide, all signs of annoyance fading.  
“Belle,” he breathed, so softly that she barely caught it.

“What?” Rosanna blinked, wanting to be sure of what he’d said... or rather… how he’d said it.

“Nothing. What did you need, dearie?” He stepped around her and forward to the counter, fiddling with the account books. No doubt he simply wanted something to occupy his hands- he fidgeted a lot, she’s noticed. It was just his manner.

“Why didn’t you tell me about my father?” she asked, point blank. Mr. Gold seemed to register nothing but sheer shock.

“I… Belle, you must understand-”

“I’m not Belle anymore!” Rosanna cried, louder than she’d intended. Gold’s face went a shade paler. He leaned heavily on his cane, not speaking. “I _wish_ I was. I want to have my memories, but I don’t, and if I never become who I was before then I at least want to know a little about her. Please.”

“I was trying to protect you,” he said quietly after a long moment.

Rosanna took a moment to let this sink in. Anger flared in the pit of her stomach, but she forced herself to calm down and think rationally. She didn’t need protection, but he might not have known that. How was he supposed to have known that things would play out as they did?

Be understanding. Be strong.

Be brave.

“I appreciate that,” she whispered. His brown eyes flicked up, a strange look that was almost fear playing in his gaze. “I really do, but I don’t need protecting. I need exposure. I need honesty.”

Mr. Gold just stared, an even, vulnerable stare that shook her down to her very core. She hadn’t known him long, but she’d seen him around town. She knew his demeanor- strong, sarcastic, powerful, guarded. It wasn’t… _this_. It wasn’t open or frightened or… 

But she couldn’t even finish that sentence in her own mind. It scared her to think too far in that direction.

“Are you going to be honest with me, or do I need to find out answers for myself?” Her tone was even, her voice soft. 

“I wish I could,” Gold whispered, shaking his head, but then spoke louder. “I’ve never told you a lie-”

“So rather than lie to me, you hide things from me, hm?” Because that was so much better. 

“I only wanted to keep you safe.”

“Keep me safe? Safe from _what_?” It was _Storybrooke_ \- a stupid little town in the middle of stupid little Nowheresville, Nowhere, where no one ever changed! What on earth could be here to hurt her? Why was he the only one who knew her from before?

Why did she feel drawn to him like metal to a magnet? Why would he withhold this information from her? Why would he rather be silent than lie to her?

Why did he even _care_?

“Why won’t you ever tell me anything? You talk all the time, but you never say a _bloody word_. You said you knew me before, but you didn’t say how. How did we meet? Were we close? Who- why- just…” She couldn’t think coherently any longer. Words poured from her mouth without her conscious permission, asking questions she might never have dared to ask. “Who _are_ you?” Rosanna finally spluttered, anger directing her words. He seemed confused, but his stupid little false smile played around his face as he spoke.

“I’m Mr. Gold-”

“To me. Who are you to _me_?” she stared him directly in the eye, daring him to respond.

Praying he would tell her the truth.

Gold sighed. He obviously wanted to be gentle with her, to ease her back into ordinary life like everyone else, but it was obvious that the time for easing into things was long gone. She needed answers more than she needed time.

“I can’t tell you who I am to you now, but as for who I _was_ …” His eyes flicked down and back up again, and Rosanna got the impression that he wasn’t looking at her any longer. Perhaps he was looking at Belle.

“I used to be someone that you cared for very much.”

“How much?”

Were they friends? Family? Lovers? She had him talking, and she wasn’t about to let him stop now. Gold reached out and took hand, bringing it slowly to his lips to press a tender kiss to her palm. Rosanna had to fight the urge to let her fingers move to caress his cheek. Dear lord, what was she thinking? She’d had tea with the man a few times and now… what?

“Very much,” he murmured, breath tickling her skin. “And hell if I know why.” Dropping her hand, Gold turned to walk towards the back room again, but Rosanna stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait.” 

He paused, but didn’t turn towards her.

“I want… I want to know you. I want to know who I was, who- who I _am_. Please. I don’t need shelter any more, I need the truth. Look at me.”  
Mr. Gold turned around to look at her, his brown eyes soft.

“Forget about what I asked for a second,” Rosanna said, her hand still resting on his shoulder. “Who am I to _you_?” That question was perhaps more important than anything. She couldn’t change who she was before- for all she knew, those memories would never return. She could, however, change the present. In order for her to move on with her life, though, she needed to know certain things.

She needed to know why the one person in all of Storybrooke who knew her from before her memory loss looked at her with such soft eyes. She needed to know why the scary rent collector bothered to seek her out for company, to show her around town, to talk about books and food and far-off places. He didn’t need her. He had the entire town eating out of the palm of his hand, and yet he paid special attention to the little introverted amnesiac living above the library.

Why?

“You really want to know?”

“Yes.” Rosanna didn’t hesitate, not for a moment. Mr. Gold took both her hands in his, holding them gently. He took a deep breath, like he was preparing to say something very difficult indeed.

“I love you,” he whispered. Rosanna froze, eyes locked with his. “Memories or no, I love you so much. You’re smart and kind and beautiful, you bring out the good in other people no matter how bad they might seem, and I don’t know who you think you were, but none of that has changed. You make me want to be a better person, better than I ever could be, and if you never love me again then that’s alright because I didn’t deserve it while I had it, and I threw it away when I should have held on and never let you go.”

He loved her. That was the reason he seemed so different around her than everyone else in the town. That was why he cared about what happened to her, about who she was and what she might become. The realization made her lightheaded, it overwhelmed her with a completely new sensation… _someone loved her_.

But that didn’t mean she loved him. In truth, she was still puzzling out her feelings for Mr. Gold. He seemed so familiar, so similar to… to… but she couldn’t let that cloud her judgment. She couldn’t let the man in her dreams affect her feelings for someone who happened to be overly similar to him in reality.

She couldn’t let the idea that her dreams might be fragments of her, just little tiny pieces that manifested into something more, take over her life. 

She couldn’t let the fact that she was half in love with a man from her dream, a man with scales and claws rather than a scary disposition, affect who she was today.  
He dropped her hands, but she didn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” Gold muttered. “I know that was fast, but…”

“No, it’s alright. I’d rather know.” Rosanna brushed the apology aside, still dazed. Of all the things to hide from an amnesiac… “Are… you still coming over for tea next week?”

“What?” He looked up suddenly, confused.

“Tea? Tuesday? Still coming?” Was she not being clear, or was the subject change too fast for a time like this?

“You still want me?” Did he honestly think she would reject him after an admission like that? Was that why he didn’t tell her before- he didn’t want to lose her?

“Of course I do.” Rosanna smiled tentatively. “I like being around you. Just… let me take it slow, ok?”

“Anything.” Gold nodded. “Anything at all.” 

X

Rosanna lay in bed, staring out at the sky through the window. The stars were shining so brightly tonight- the sky was clear, and the constellations were visible.

“See that one?” 

Rosanna jumped. She hadn’t even noticed that she’d fallen asleep. Rather than the full bed in her apartment with cotton sheets, she now lay in an enormous four-poster, canopied bed with sheets that felt like… satin?

Surely this was a castle, and a glance to the left proved it.

Rum stood beside the bed, pointing out stars through the window. Part of her rational mind wondered what on earth he was doing in her bedroom, but then again… these things never did make much sense.

“That’s Draco. The dragon.” He nodded towards the window. True to his description, Rosanna saw part of the dragon peeking out through the narrow view that the window provided.

“It’s good to see you,” she mumbled.

“And you.” Rum smiled softly. She wondered for a moment how he managed to look so vulnerable through all his scales. “I see you’ve started to remember me.”

“What do you mean?” The last time she saw him had been their kiss, when she insisted that she no longer remembered who he was. She didn’t think anything had changed between now and then, besides the visit to her father…

“I mean exactly what I said, dearie.”

Rosanna turned the past events over in her mind. She knew that for some reason, some way, Mr. Gold used to call her Belle. The last time she was here, with Rum, he’d called her that, too. 

Rumford. He’d said once that his first name was Rumford, even though she had yet to call him by it. He was scary towards other people, and he made deals just like Rum did…

But there was one other thing. One thing that she didn’t think she heard, but it could seal the deal on the similarities between them

“Rum?” Rosanna whispered. He looked over, curious. “Last time, right before I left… did you tell me something?” She slid out from under the blankets, swinging her legs around to sit on the side of the bed so she could face him directly.

“Aye, I did.”

“What was it?” She tried to maintain eye contact, but the way he was looking at her made her want to drop her gaze, and she felt a hot blush creeping up her cheeks.

“If I tell you that,” Rum leaned down to place a light kiss on her forehead, “then you’ll have to go.” She would wake up? Why? Rosanna had known this world for longer than she remembered- what rules were there that she didn’t know about?

“Why?”

“Because that is what happened the first time you told me. You told me, and you left. And then you forgot. The cycle has to go on that way, because that is what is real.” He said it all so very matter-of-factly that Rosanna felt like she should have known that from the start.

“I told you I-”

“Shh.” Rum cut her off with a finger to her lips, eyes squeezed shut. “Once. Yes.”

“I don’t remember it.” She was on the verge of pouting like a child who wanted dessert before supper. Rum giggled, high-pitched and gleeful.  
“Of course you don’t, dearie. That’s the _point_.”

X

Belle jolted awake, taking a moment to breathe and register that she really was properly awake this time, and reached for the phone on the bedside table.  
It was time to place a call to David.

They met at the park after lunch, and picked out a bench in front of the pond to sit on and feed the ducks while they talked. Rosanna had never expected to find such a fast friend in him, but then again… she’d also never expected to meet another amnesiac that she could talk to. He was the only one who could understand what she was going through right now, and she would never be able to thank him enough for listening. Sometimes a psychiatrist wasn’t enough- sometimes you just needed a friend.

“Did you ever think that things might bleed through?” she asked. “Little things, like from another life or other people…?”

“Yeah, sometimes.” David nodded, staring off at the sunrise. “Sometimes I think I can see things, really see them and remember them, but then a second later they’re gone, and they don’t come back.”

“So you think the dreams I have… do you think they could maybe come from my memories?”

“Like… a reflection of what your life was before?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Rosanna said, nodding urgently.

“I don’t know. Maybe? It’s probably possible. What makes you think that?”

“Well… it’s just… sometimes the people I see look… familiar.”

“Familiar how?”

“Like, every now and then I see this prince, and he’s always out looking for his true love. He says she has hair as black as night and skin as white as snow.”

“What, like Snow White?” David smiled. Rosanna shrugged, but her mind screamed that yes, that’s exactly what it was like.

“He looks like you,” she admitted. “And I can’t help but notice that you and Mary Margaret… well…” Rosanna dropped her eyes, hoping she hadn’t crossed a line.

“But we didn’t even meet until after I woke up from the coma.”

“I know, I know. And that’s what doesn’t make sense.” “No one knows me, but the people I see in a completely different world mirror them. They mirror their lives and their personalities…”

“Whoa. Hold on.” Davis stopped her, holding up a hand. “So you’re saying that… what? You can see other people like… magic?”

“I…” Rosanna paused. What exactly was she trying to say? “I don’t know.”

But was there any other explanation? How on earth could she have formed people in her mind that were almost the same- almost, but not quite, just a little altered by the world that they resided in- as the ones in Storybrooke? How else was that even possible? 

She knew now that Gold and whoever her past self- _Belle_ \- might have been… they had history together. And Rum, his namesake and the man who actually looked quite a lot like him if you disregarded the scales… Rum had kissed her.

Why did everything have to be so twisted into knots? Why couldn’t she be free to live and love and have everything make sense? The longer she thought about it, the more she realized that she _wanted_ to love Mr. Gold, platonically if nothing else, and not even in the sense that he might be a parallel to Rum, but… because of who he was. 

There was no one else here who cared for him, and he openly admitted that he cared for _her_. He was interesting, and he didn’t act like she was crazy, which was a feat in itself, and most of all… he hadn’t immediately pounced on her with their relationship.

She’d been angry at first, oh, _so_ angry, but after that had faded away she realized that in this case he was probably in the right. He cared for her enough to give her time, and even enough to openly tell her to move on if she didn’t want to be with him.

That was love- wanting your loved one to be happy regardless of how much it might hurt you. She was willing- more than willing- to give him a chance, but she had to take things slowly. She had to puzzle out things in her own mind before she could have even the slightest hope of figuring out her heart.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_So many silent sorrows_  
 _You’ll never hear from again_  
 _And now that you’ve lost tomorrow_  
 _Is yesterday still a friend?_  



End file.
